


History

by RunWonderlandRun



Series: Blood of Silver [7]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Argent Family History, Gen, Hale family History, Peter is still creepy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-18
Updated: 2013-11-18
Packaged: 2018-01-01 23:50:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1050056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RunWonderlandRun/pseuds/RunWonderlandRun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“That is their code, yes,” he laid the book on his knees, “the Argent code,” Peter stared down at the book, “there are dozens of hunter’s out there—dozens of families who have passed down their code through the generations.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

                Allison e-mailed Stiles a few minutes before he left for Peter’s apartment. The e-mail was short and business like.

                _Stiles,_ she wrote, _I found a couple of Kate and Gerard’s things in our house. I think you have a right to know about what our family’s done over the years._

_Sincerely, Allison._

                He thought about responding but decided against it. He really didn’t want to know what Allison found. Stiles let out a breath and shut off his computer. He stuffed a couple of pens and his notebook into his bag and ran down the stairs. He grabbed his keys, went out the door, and got into his jeep. Stiles texted Scott before leaving his driveway.

                _Off to Peter’s,_ he wrote. Scott answered back in seconds.

                _Be careful_

Stiles huffed.

                _Always_ , he responded.

                                                                                                --------

                Peter’s apartment was on the edge of town. Stiles parked his car on the sidewalk. He stared at the building in front of him. Shaking his head, Stiles grabbed his bag and exited his car. He climbed up the stairs to Peter’s apartment. He stared at the door. His palms were sweaty. 

                “You can do this,” he told himself, “you can do this.”      

                Stiles knocked three times and stood back. Seconds later, the door opened.

                “Stiles,” Peer tried to sound surprised. He opened the door further, “Please come in.”

                “Peter,” Stiles stepped inside and looked around. The apartment was dark, “Is Derek here?”

                “Derek doesn’t really visit me,” the werewolf smiled. He gestured to the living room, “Shall we?”

                Nodding, Stiles followed Peter. The coffee table in the middle was piled with books and loose sheets. Stiles eyes widened. His hands trembled.  Peter sat down in the armchair. He crossed his legs.

                “Why don’t you sit down?” Peter said. Stiles licked his lips and sat down on the couch opposite of Peter, his eyes still on the books.

                “What do you know about the Argents, Stiles?”

                “I know they had something to do with your grandparents decades ago,” he paused, “I think an Argent tried to use your brother to get information on the pack,” Peter grinned, “…I know what Kate did,” he looked at the ground, “I know what Gerard did.”

                “Yes,” Peter sighed and shook his head, false sympathy shining out of his eyes, “your father.”

                Stiles growled, “NOT my father.”

                Peter raised his hands, “If you say so,” he didn’t let Stiles respond. Instead, he grabbed one of the books off from the table and opened it.

                “Regina Argent-Edward,” Stiles flinched at the name, “Daughter of Richard Argent and Victoria Edward.”

                Stiles Blinked, “Victoria?”

                “Mmm,” Peter nodded, “Victoria,” he flipped a page in the book, “The Argents didn’t give us much trouble before Regina. There was no reason for them to come after us,” he stared at Stiles, “you know about their little code.”

                “We hunt those who hunt us,” Stiles said. Peter nodded.

                “That is their code, yes,” he laid the book on his knees, “the Argent code,” Peter stared down at the book, “there are dozens of hunter’s out there—dozens of families who have passed down their code through the generations.”

                “Each family follows a different code,” Stiles guessed. Peter smirked, “So…what was the Edward’s code?”

                Peter closed his eyes and leaned back against his seat, “They’re a very smart family, the Edward’s,” he laid his hands on his stomach, “they would pick a pack who was established but not big and slowly chip away at them.”

                “Why?” Stiles asked, “Why go against a pack of werewolves that wasn’t causing trouble? That wasn’t going around killing humans?”

                “Because in their eyes a werewolf is nothing BUT a werewolf,” Peter said, “we are but rabid animals in their eyes, despite our humanity.”

                Stiles didn’t say anything.

                “A couple of centuries ago, most of the werewolves that existed lived in packs. It was odd and unheard of for a wolf to live by himself. Back then, it wasn’t unheard of for a pack to be a hundred strong. However, by the late 1800’s, things started to change,” Peter put the book down. He picked up an older one and handed it to Stiles.

                “Our packs became smaller. Smaller packs offered more protection against hunters. We wouldn’t be so noticeable then.”

                Stiles opened the book. The pages were yellow and smelled of vanilla. They were filled with names and years.

                “Safer from hunters,” Stiles guessed, “less werewolves, less attention.”

                “Exactly,” Peter nodded, “My grandmother split from her family’s pack in Wyoming and formed the pack here in Beacon Hills.”

                “Oh,” Stiles blinked, “wait, so does that mean—“

                “No,” Peter shook his head, “I’m afraid those Hales are,” he licked his lips, “are long dead,” Peter shrugged, “my grandmother bit three people—including my mother.”

                “You’re mother?” Stiles mouth dropped, “whoa hold on—you’re mom was bitten? She was human?”

                Peter looked amused, “Yes. My mother Irene used to be human,” he smiled at Stiles, “you seem surprised.”

                Stiles shrugged and looked at the ground. He was surprised. Somehow he didn’t think the Hales had bitten anybody before Derek.

                “The Hales were not shy about inviting humans into our house,” he paused, “at least, not until Regina.”

                Stiles scrubbed his hands through his hair, “Ok,” he cracked his knuckles and rolled his shoulders back, “So what happened with Regina?”

                Peter stared at him, “What do you know?”

                “I know she killed sixteen members of your family,” he sighed, “I know she poisoned them and used a sword like—“ he licked his lips, “like Gerard.”

                “Mmm,” Peter nodded, “Regina came to Beacon Hills with her mother’s blessing.”

                “But not her father’s?” Stiles asked, curious. Peter’s thought about it.

                “The hunter community is ruled by matriarchy. I think Victoria convinced Richard that her family’s approach was…better,” he looked at the book in Stiles hand, “She didn’t approach the pack until she’d been in town for a couple of months,” Peter rubbed his hands, “Regina studied them—she figured out which members would be easier to approach and which ones to avoid.”

                “She was friends with your mom,” Stiles said. Peter smiled.

                “Regina knew that bitten werewolves were a little more…accepting of new people, though my mother wasn’t the first one she approached. It was Adam.”

                “Another bitten werewolf.”

                “The youngest one in the pack—not counting the children,” Peter sighed, “He fell under her spell, much like Derek fell with Kate Argent.”

                Stiles flinched.

                “After Adam, she befriended my mother. Regina was never allowed into the house, however. Not until she saved my father.”

                Stiles felt a headache coming on, “How did that happen?”

                Peter rubbed his thumbs over his hands, “Another hunter—one that wasn’t affiliated with any of the families. He went after my father and Regina just so happened to be there and saved him.”

                “Just so happened to be there?” Stiles asked. Peter chuckled.

                “I’m guessing the hunter was hired by her to move things along. He probably didn’t know she’d end up killing him. She saw my father shifted but she didn’t try and kill him. She didn’t seem afraid. After that, my grandmother decided that she was safe enough to bring into the fold,” Peter said, “a couple of months later, she killed most of the pack.”

                Stiles looked down at the book. He turned a couple of pages and found a family tree. At the top, were the names Frederick and Darla Hale. The tree listed the name of the pack. He turned the page. There were records of when each child was born and whether they were a werewolf or human. Irene had been the first bitten. Her family had died and the Hale’s took her in on the urging of their son.

                He turned a couple more pages. Stiles stopped. The writing was angry and sloppy.

                “Regina lured them with the promise of a meal,” Peter said. Stiles read the story, “she poisoned the air with wolfbane until they couldn’t fight…”

                _Wolfbane gas_ , Stiles read, _Regina poisoned them with wolfbane gas. When they were too weak to fight, she sliced them in half with a silver sword…._

“My grandparents managed to get there in time to save some of the pack.”       

_“Only Josh, Irene, Frederick and I are left. The rest of our pack is dead. I killed Regina personally. Hours later, I found that she was an Argent_

“Back then, my family had a couple of wolves as pet’s,” Peter explained, “My grandmother tore Regina limb from limb but all the cops saw was a mutilated corpse and a couple of wolves with bloody muzzles.”

_An Argent and an Edward. Richard and Victoria claimed that they knew nothing of their daughter’s plan and have disowned her in death. I do not believe them, but I have no evidence against them. It would be foolish of me to attack them._

                “My grandparents were more cautious after that fact. They didn’t feel comfortable in letting humans into their packs. They didn’t want any more accidents.”

                Stiles closed the book, “They had two more kids,” he looked at Peter. The werewolf grinned.

                “They did. And then their son, my father, married my mother and they had four kids,” Peter sighed, “Robert, Talia, Ana,” he pointed to himself, “and me.”

                “Robert was the next victim,” Stiles said. Peter nodded.

                “My father was the Alpha when Robert was born—“

                “Wait,” Stiles frowned, “weren’t your grandparents still alive? How did he become an Alpha?”

                Peter rolled his eyes, “There is more than one way to become and alpha. My grandmother transferred her leadership to her son after Robert was born.”

                “So…” Stiles tapped the book, “they became his betas?”

                “Not really,” Peter cocked his head, “they became his advisors.”

                Stiles opened the book again. He looked for Robert’s name.

                “My parents didn’t allow us to have much contact with others,” Peter’s voice was soft, “we weren’t allowed to have friends or to form any kind of relationship with anybody my father didn’t approve of; and he didn’t approve of anybody.”

                “Didn't that bother you?” Stiles asked. Peter shook his head.

                “I didn’t think much of it—I was but seven years old at the time.”

                “What about your sisters?”

                “Ana was a very obedient girl,” Peter scoffed, “And Talia would never go against our father’s wishes.”

_Robert met a boy a couple of weeks ago. He’s become infatuated with him and sneaks out constantly to be with him. I’ve done everything I could to stop him from seeing that boy but so far nothing has worked. I might have to send him to the Vazquez pack for a while._

“You’re father was going to send him to another pack?”

                “My brother didn’t listen,” Peter replied, “he was going directly against his alpha. My father thought that a year away would help.”

_Talia came and told me that she caught Robert kissing that boy. Within a week, I will be sending him off to the Vazquez within a week._

Peter leaned forward. His eyes searched out Stiles.

                “My father beat Robert until he couldn’t move. I remember the smell of blood—I remember his screams.”

                Stiles trembled.

                “A couple of days later, Robert and that boy were gone. Everyone was so angry, so scared that something would happen,” Peter let out a short laugh, “finding his body was a relief.”

                Stiles felt sick.

                “Talia heard that an Argent had been killed by a werewolf along the same time of Robert’s death. It was obvious who the boy was then.”

                “Why,” Stiles shook his head, “why didn’t your father do something? I mean—couldn’t he have fought back or—“

                “How?” Peter glared at him, “Our pack was just beginning to stabilize again. We had no evidence against the Argents. To go against them at that time would have given them free reign to kill us all.”

                “Couldn’t you get help?”

                Peter rolled his eyes, “Don’t you get it Stiles? In a war between werewolves and hunters, it’s the wolves that are always at a disadvantage. We could never hope to prove that the Argent’s weren’t  all involve in Robert’s death and not just Beau.”

                Stiles never thought about that, but it made sense. If the Hale’s had sought revenge for Robert, the Argent’s would have killed them all without remorse. We hunt those who hunt us.

                “Robert’s death fractured the family,” he paused, “I don’t remember anyone mourning him. My parents and grandparents were terrified that Robert’s death was only the beginning. Things changed, and not for the better—not really.”

                Peter stood up. Stiles tensed but didn’t move from the chair. He watched Peter look through some of the papers on the table. He handed Stiles one.

                “The family tree, starting with my grandparents.”

                Cold spread throughout Stiles body. There were dozens of name written down in elegant blue ink. More than half of them were crossed out in a dark red.

                “That’s—“ Stiles hands shook, “that’s—“

                “The legacy left to use by the Argents.”

                Peter started to pace. Stiles grew nervous.

                “Werewolves don’t fully shift until we reach puberty—but we feel the pull of the moon, we feel the pull on our emotions well before that. We can still pose a danger to ourselves and others,” his eyes flashed, “before Robert, we were allowed to run around the woods under adult supervisions.”

                Stiles continued to look at the family tree.

                “After that, the basement was redesign to hold us. My grandparents bought shackles, cuffs, and cages—anything that would contain a werewolf.”

                “Why?” Stiles asked, “why would they do that? Couldn’t they just—I don’t know, become even more isolated? Move deeper into the woods and live off the land? Avoid the hunters that way?”

                Peter threw his head back and laughed, “Do you think that would have stopped them?” he asked Stiles, “I think my parents realized that if we just didn’t get out on the full moon, the hunters would leave us alone. It was a horrible plan, really but they were desperate.”

                Suddenly, Peter lunged. Stiles yelped and stumbled backwards but Peter managed to grab onto his neck. He pinned Stiles to the wall and lightly pressed against his throat. Stiles flinched and tried not to move.

                “Your family,” Peter moved closer, until his nose was practically pressed against Stiles cheek, “has been hunting mine for decades,” he Peter pressed harder against his throat. Stiles choked and tried to push Peter away but he couldn’t.

                “Not,” Stiles coughed and tried to take a breath, “not my family.”

                Peter’s smiled. His teeth looked sharp, “Oh Stiles,” the werewolf breathed against him, “you might not have been raised by them, but you’re an Argent,” he nuzzled Stiles cheek, “I wonder…I wonder if one day you’ll turn against Scott.”

                Stiles tried to shake his head. No, he wouldn’t do that. Stiles would never turn against Scott.

                “You might,” Peter stared into his eyes and tapped a finger against his chest, “one day you just might snap and kill him.”

                “No,” Stiles hissed, “never—I would never—“ he swallowed, “I’m not—I’m not—“

                “I hope you don’t,” Peter said, his voice cold but soft, “I like you, Stiles; I really do. It would be a shame if you ended up like your sister and father,” he glared at Stiles, “it be a shame if I had to—“     

                “Peter.”

                “Oh God,” Stiles eyes went wide, “Oh God.”

                “Derek,” Peter greeted, his hand still on Stiles throat, “I was wondering when you’d get here.”

                Growling, Derek closed the door behind him.

                “Let him go,” he ordered, “now.”

                Peter pursed his lips. He winked at Stiles and let him drop the floor. Gasping, Stiles dragged himself back toward the couch. Derek looked at him before looking over at the table. He blinked. Stiles stomach dropped.

                “What,” Derek moved closer. Stiles watched as he picked up the books Peter had laid out on the table, “What is this?”

                Peter grinned, “Stiles and I were just talking about our families.”

                Stiles trembled. He watched as Derek flipped through the pages of one of the books. He watched as realization dawned on Derek.

                “You,” Derek sounded lost, “you’re the one Peter told me about,” he stared at Stiles, “You’re an Argent.”

                Stiles ran. He ran out of the apartment. He ran down the stairs, got into his car and drove back home. When he got to his house, Stiles dashed inside and locked the door behind him.

                _You’re an Argent_

He could still feel Peter’s hand around his throat. Hissing, he toed off his shoes and threw his bag to the side. Stiles crawled onto his bed and pushed his face into a pillow.

                Stiles didn’t know. He didn’t know that the Argents had long ago set their sights on the Hale’s. He just thought that Kate and Gerard deviated from the code. He didn’t know that they’ve been following another one.

                _You’re an Argent_

He wasn’t an Argent. No matter what Peter said, he wasn’t. Stiles was not going to turn against Scott.

                Letting out a breath Stiles got up from his bed. He sat down in his chair and stared at his computer screen. He remembered Allison’s e-mail.

                _I think you have a right to know about what our family’s done over the years._

Stiles closed his eyes. He didn’t think he could handle any more truths. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “He is,” Peter sighed, “he doesn’t much look like an Argent though. He takes after his mother,” he paused, “Although now that I think about it, he does somewhat resemble Allison.”

                “You’re an Argent.”

                Derek looked at Stiles. The teen scrambled to his feet and ran out the door. Derek heard him stomp down the stairs, jump into his car and peel out of the parking lot. He let the book in his hand fall to the floor. His uncle came to stand next to him.

                “Stiles is Gerard’s son,” he glared at Peter. His uncle smiled.

                “He is,” Peter sighed, “he doesn’t much look like an Argent though. He takes after his mother,” he paused, “Although now that I think about it, he does somewhat resemble Allison.”

                Derek threw the book at his uncle, but Peter caught it easily.

                “Why didn’t you tell me?” he growled. His uncle shrugged.

                “It wasn’t important. It’s not like he was RAISED by Gerard. He wasn’t a threat.”

                “He’s an Argent!” Derek snarled. Peter rolled his eyes, “and his mother—“ Derek clenched his fists, “his mother had to be involved with them. She had to be a hunter too.”

                Peter shook his head, “I was never able to find much about Alexis,” he tapped his fingers against his knees, “all I was ever to find out was that she betrayed Gerard somehow,” he looked at Derek, “I’m surprised he didn’t kill her really.”

                Derek sank down on the couch across from Peter.

                “He raped her,” his uncle said, “he raped her and then he let her go,” Peter grinned, “and from that punishment, came Stiles.”

                “You said,” Derek took a breath, “you said Gerard didn’t know.”

                Peter raised a hand, “I said I wasn’t sure if he knew about Stiles,” he tilted his head, “but now that I think about it, he must have known,” he crossed his legs, “Gerard had to have known that Stiles was his son.”

                “Does…” Derek hunched his shoulders, “does the Sheriff know?”

                “Well he knows Stiles isn’t his son,” Peter drawled, “but I’m not sure he knows if Gerard Stiles father or not.”

                “I can’t,” Derek huffed, “I can’t believe Stiles—“ he rested his elbows on his thighs, “he’s an Argent. He’s an Argent.”

                Peter sighed and stood up, “Yes, yes he is,” he sounded bored, “but—“ Peter’s lips twitched, “that can work to our advantage.”

                “How?” Derek asked.

                “Tell me,” Peter moved forward until he was standing in front of him, “who is Stiles best friend? His brother in everything but blood?”

                Derek blinked, “Scott.”

                Peter nodded, “And what is Scott?”

                “A werewolf,” his uncle hummed.

                “Exactly,” he walked behind Derek, “and what has Stiles done ever since he found out that Scott was a werewolf?”

                Derek didn’t say anything. Peter clapped both his hands on Derek’s shoulder. He winced.

                “We could be free of them,” his uncle whispered, “we could be free of the Argents for good.”

                Derek shook his head, “How—“

                “Think about it nephew,” Peter moved to his side, “Chris is still reeling over the loss of his family. He knows what his father did—what his sister did. He knows that his wife was going to kill Scott. He’s not going to want to do anything with us.”

                Derek flexed his fingers.

                “And Allison,” Peter cooed, “Sweet Allison, who in the end realized that her grandfather was molding her into Kate’s image.

                Derek glared at Peter.

                “And then we have Stiles,” Peter licked his lips, “Stiles who was not raised by the Argents. Stiles who put his life, and his relationship with his father on the line not JUST for Scott—“ Peter met his gaze, “but for us as well,” he stood in front of Derek, “he’s kept our secret.”

                Derek stared at his uncle’s shoes.

                “Do you realize what that means?” Peter lightly kicked his foot, “we don’t have to worry about the Argent’s anymore. We’re free of them Derek,” Peter laughed, “we’re finally free.”

                Derek let his head fall back onto the seat. He stared at the book in front of him. He looked at the page Stiles had left off. The Hale family tree, covered in blood red ink.

                “I wasn’t the first,” Derek blinked, “I wasn’t the only one.”

                Peter looked over at the books, “No,” he said, “you weren’t the first to fall for a pretty face. You weren’t the first to put our family in danger,” his eyes flashed, “but you will be the last.”

                                                                                                --------  

                Afterward, Derek went back to the woods. He went back to his family’s burned down home. He stood in front of it.

                Stiles was an Argent. Stiles was Gerard’s son; he was Chris’s and Kate’s brother. Allison’s uncle. The human boy who tried so hard to protect Scott, who couldn’t help but be involved, was related to the family that had killed Derek’s.

                Derek let out a breath. He didn’t know what to do. Stiles might be Gerard’s son but he was raised by the Sheriff. He wasn’t raised to be a hunter, but he still had the blood of the Argents in him. Derek knew that didn’t mean anything. He knew Stiles would never hurt Scott. He knew Stiles was not at heart, an Argent.

                And yet, Derek thought, looking at his crumbling house. And yet, he couldn’t afford not to be cautious. Stiles might not have been raised an Argent and Peter might believe that Chris’ and Allison posed no danger but he wasn’t sure. There was still plenty of time for Stiles to be won over.

                There was still time for Stiles to become an Argent. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Derek.

**Author's Note:**

> Yay! Another installment of this. And Working on Satin. Probably will write something from Gerard/Kate's POV. Might be fun.


End file.
